But from the start she’d felt like a disappointment. The differences he’d loved about her back in Oxford somehow morphed into embarrassments that made him shake his head. She didn’t dress in the right way, she was too artistic, she hadn’t even finished her first degree for goodness sake.
But that was all water under the bridge, wasn’t it? Or it would be, once the divorce was finalised. At least then she’d be able to move forward with her life, even if she would always be tied to Thomas by their six-year-old daughter, Poppy.
‘We’ll definitely go with that one,’ Mrs Carlton said, pointing at the photograph on Juliet’s iPad. ‘Now let’s choose the table décor.’
Juliet looked at Melanie, who nodded again. ‘You’ll look beautiful,’ Juliet told her, and the woman’s smile widened.
Part of her wanted to warn Melanie that it wouldn’t get any better. Once the wedding was over, that’s when the real power play would begin.
Stop it.
Maybe the groom wasn’t as much of an ass as Thomas turned out to be. Or maybe Juliet was too jaded. She’d stayed for seven years, after all, it wasn’t all doom, was it? Anyway, she needed to be positive. Weddings were the most reliable form of income for Shakespeare Flowers. She was still trying to build up the business and her reputation. Her projections showed she should start making a profit some time the following year, but right now, cash flow was king.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, vibrating against her hip. She pulled it out, taking care not to be caught, knowing how bad it would look to this woman who put appearances over everything else. Her heart dropped when she checked the display.
Surrey Academy.
The most prestigious educational establishment in Shaw Haven, the five-thousand-dollar a term school ranged from Pre-Kindergarten to High School seniors. Poppy had been attending for a year now, and seemed happy there in spite of the turmoil at home.
‘I’m so sorry, it’s my daughter’s school. I need to take this.’ She flashed an apologetic smile at the women in front of her. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Swallowing hard, she walked out into the hallway of the expensive, colonial house. Sliding the screen to accept the call, she braced herself for a telling off. Not that it had been her fault Poppy was late to school that morning. It was her neighbours – the new ones moving into the house next to hers. Their removal truck had blocked her driveway, and by the time the driver had moved it Poppy had been twenty minutes late for school.
‘Mrs Marshall? This is Marion Davies.’ The clipped tones of the principal reminded Juliet of her mother-in-law. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past half-hour. We really need our parents to be responsive when we try to contact them.’
‘I’m so sorry, I was in a meeting. I didn’t hear the phone.’ She felt like a naughty school child. ‘Is everything okay? Nothing’s happened to Poppy has it?’
‘Nothing at all. Unfortunately she’s been involved in an … incident. I need you to come into the school now so we can discuss it face to face.’
Juliet’s mouth turned dry. ‘Now? Is it serious? Are you sure she’s not hurt?’
‘No, she isn’t hurt. She is, however, in a lot of trouble. It’s not something I wish to discuss over the telephone. If you come to my office I’ll tell you all about it.’
Juliet glanced at her watch, grimacing. ‘Could I come in at the end of school instead?’ She had ten deliveries to make before then. Fitting them in before class finished at three was already going to be a close-run thing.
Lowering her voice, Principal Davies played her trump card. ‘Of course, I’d be happy to call Mr Marshall if you prefer.’
‘Oh no, that won’t be necessary. I’ll get there as soon as I can.’ She really didn’t want Thomas getting involved in this. The more distance she could keep between them the better.
‘Very well. I’ll see you imminently.’ With that, Principal Davies rang off, leaving Juliet still holding the phone to her ear.
Ugh, she was going to have to call Lily and ask her to stay late at the shop, and beg her to do the deliveries. And she hated doing that, even though Lily never complained. Like Juliet, she just gritted her teeth and got on with things.
And right now it looked like both their days were about to get a heck of a lot worse.
‘Mrs Marshall? Please go in.’ The school administrator pointed towards the principal’s office. Juliet stood, her legs feeling suddenly shaky. She smoothed the denim down her thighs, tucking her shirt in to try and regain a semblance of smartness. Being called ‘Mrs Marshall’ sounded alien to her now. Strange how quickly she’d shrugged off that name, in her head at least. Nowadays she thought of herself as Juliet Shakespeare again, the girl who grew up in London. In the years since her shotgun marriage, she’d somehow lost the very joie de vivre Thomas had fallen in love with. A victim of trying to squeeze her square peg self into a perfectly round hole.
As soon as she walked into the principal’s office, all heads turned to look at her. She sought Poppy out first, seeing her six-year-old girl sitting in the corner, her eyes wide as she stared imploringly at Juliet.
She flashed her daughter a reassuring smile. Poppy was lively and headstrong, but she was a good kid who’d been through so much.
‘Please sit down,’ Principal Davies said, pointing to the only vacant chair.
Juliet sat next to Poppy. That’s when she noticed the other child – a small blond-haired boy, looking tiny as he sat on the adult-sized chair, his hands clutched around a blue toy train.
There was a fresh bruise on his cheek.
As if he’d been slapped.